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stared at the driver in a dazed manner, as though her memory had gone astray.

Harley allowed his head to drop backwards for a few moments, then he turned upon the driver in mild anger.

“What are we waiting for?” he asked.

Roy alighted and opened the back door to assist the elderly woman to her seat. When he had satisfied himself that she was frightened rather than hurt, he walked around the car, examining the tyres and testing the springs.

“Still all in one piece,” he announced cheerfully, as he climbed behind the wheel again. “We’re lucky. She might have rolled over on us.”

“Let’s get on!” snapped Harley irritably. “What are we wasting time for?”

As Roy good-humouredly pressed the starter button, a gleaming limousine snored past and raced ahead. From its crowded interior sounded shrill peals of excited laughter.

“Evidently this buck-jumping business appeals to that crowd,” he said, ignoring Harley’s question. “Hope they break their blooming necks.”

As though in answer to his pious wish, the limousine swerved, skidded violently, and came to a stop at an acute angle in the ditch at the side of the road. A small crowd of terrified girls and youths scrambled from it into the roadway.

The oncoming taxi honked imperiously and sped by, profiting by the limousine’s swerve and avoiding the small patch of shattered macadam which had ditched it.

“Let ’em walk,” grinned Roy, ignoring the cries for assistance. “Do ’em good, even if it doesn’t teach ’em manners.”

Presently the car drew in behind the long line of vehicles moving across the country with the caution of traffic in a city street which bears the warning “Road Up.” The hills on either side were cracked, and the cracks extended across the road in places,